


And Baby Makes Two

by Dragonsandducks



Series: Mando and Ad’ika [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, mando doesn’t know how to raise a child, my first draft of this got deleted :(, rough Mando’a, so I am writing this while trying not to cry because it was a REALLY GOOD DRAFT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21572002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsandducks/pseuds/Dragonsandducks
Summary: The Mandalorian has never had to take care of a child before.He’s going to have to learn.
Relationships: The Mandalorian & The Child
Series: Mando and Ad’ika [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560583
Comments: 35
Kudos: 769





	And Baby Makes Two

**Author's Note:**

> I should be writing crosslands but..... baby yoda
> 
> also the language mando speaks is Mando’a (Mandalorian) and the translations came from mandoa.org

The Mandalorian waited until he was sure they were safe to turn to face the child. He— she—  _ they _ chewed on the small metal ball, a content look on their face. 

The Mandalorian was less pleased. “You’ll break your teeth,” he chastised, plucking it from their small fingers. “Or choke,” he added. Children were so… small. So frail. So susceptible to easily avoidable deaths. 

This was going to stress him out. 

The child looked two seconds from bursting into full on screaming-crying, and to avoid a tantrum, the Mandalorian handed the ball back to them. Satiated, they return to their teething. 

The Mandalorian breathed a sigh of relief, which was quickly interrupted by the whine of the small child. He shot up in the pilot’s chair. “Food,” he blurted. “You haven’t eaten.” 

He debated for a second whether or not he could leave the child alone while he got food. But unless they lost interest in the ball soon— doubtful— he assumed it would be fine on its own. 

On the lower decks, the Mandalorian dug through what little rations he had left to find something the child could eat easily. He landed on a few soft bars of nutrition and decided it was the best he could do. 

The child was right where he left them, happily chewing away at the ball. The Mandalorian held out his hand, learning from his previous mistake. “Give,” he said, with more force than he intended. The child handed the ball over all the same, eyes landing on the food. 

The Mandalorian opened the food and handed the whole bar to the child. 

It occurred to him, as the child devoured the bar in two bites, that they needed a name. “Slow down,” he said, only half paying attention, as he thought about naming conventions. He couldn’t very well name them. They weren’t his child. They could have parents out there, looking for them. 

But they weren’t here. So he’d have to. 

“Do you have a name?” he asked, opening the second ration bar. He handed a small piece of it to the child, rather than the whole thing, and they ate it peacefully. But they didn’t answer his question. 

He sighed again, running a hand over his helmet. 

“You’re not making this easy,  _ ad’ika _ ,” he said. At the last word, the child perked up, looking at the Mandalorian and tilting their head. “It means little one, or child,” he explained. He handed another piece of the bar to the child as the gears in his head turned. 

Well, it was as good a name as any. “ _ Ad’ika _ ,” he said, getting the child’s attention. “Understand that? If you get lost, wait for me to call for you.  _ Ad’ika _ .”

He wasn’t sure if the child understood, but there wasn’t exactly another way to get them to learn. 

“ _ Ah, _ ” the child squeaked. “ _ Ah…d _ .” The Mandalorian stared at it intensely. 

“You  _ can _ speak,” he said dumbly. “Good. Well… I’ll have to start teaching you, then.” 

The child smiled. 

The Mandalorian handed it another piece of the bar. 

* * *

Here was a problem he hadn’t thought of— where was the child going to sleep? There was his bed, of course, but that was large, and not suited for a baby. Besides,  _ he _ was going to sleep there. 

There were little hollows throughout the ship where the child could stay, but what if they got stuck? Or rolled out, and splattered onto the floor? 

He supposed they could sleep in one of the chairs in the cockpit. He had a spare blanket, and the cushioning was soft. 

It was the best he had, so he grabbed the blanket and headed up.   


* * *

The child was tucked in (as best as they could have been, considering the Mandalorian’s childcare skills), and the only remaining lights on were the ones on the dashboard. 

But just as the Mandalorian was about to head down to the lower decks, to get some sleep himself, the child cried out. 

The Mandalorian returned to their side. “What’s wrong?” he asked. The child reached a small hand towards him. “I can’t stay. My bed is in the lower decks.” The child whined again. 

The Mandalorian sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Fine.” He picked the child up, awkwardly cradling them in his arms. Gently, he began to rock them back and forth, humming what he hoped sounded soothing. He didn’t know any lullabies, so he supposed this would have to do. 

It seemed to work, because the child’s eyes eventually slid closed, their breathing evening out. “ _ Jate ca, Ad’ika, _ ” he whispered. 

When he went down to the lower decks to rest, it was the best sleep he’d had in years. 


End file.
